Before Dawn: A Free Falling Novella Read online

  The shrill, piercing notes of One Way or Another have just broken through the light music that’s setting the mood while we wait, suddenly turning the sounds of chatter and soft laughter into an awkward silence. He quickly turns it off, the expression of bewilderment preceding a gesture that has always betrayed his words and actions: two absent-minded fingers begin to rub at the temple. A nervous tick I’d always recognise no matter how much time has gone by.

  *

  Less than an hour later, a roar of applause engulfs the church and a woman with a scary hat leans closer to take a better look at the beaming newlyweds.

  “Oh, such a wonderful ceremony!” she moans, wiping tears I don’t see from the corners of her eyes.

  “Yes... lovely.” I nod, hesitantly, as I clap along, my eyes unable to leave the ridiculous egg-yolk yellow thing on her head and the set of weird feathers and antennas attached to it.

  Good Lord, Lady Gaga would have loved that...

  The last hour went by in a blur. I do recall You Raise Me Up being the second hymn, but after that, I basically gave up following the proceedings, my mind either focused on the man sitting a few rows in front of me or wandering to past memories, I secretly hope he hasn’t forgotten either.

  Half the church begins to approach Jimmy and Linda to give them their personal well-wishes. I prefer to sit while waiting for the fuss to settle down, my eyes momentarily distracted by the near-hysterical moves of the wedding planner.

  Face red and neck veins bulging, the man in tight, short trousers, brightly coloured designer jacket and perfect eyebrows is about to break into despair, clearly frustrated with the rather misbehaving wedding party. He’s really having a hard time shoving us all outside for the group photo.

  When I stand and straighten my dress, his eyes pierce me. And then they widen in shock, when I turn towards the altar, not the front door.

  A snort escapes me. A not very lady-like one, I suppose.

  With eyes focused on Jimmy, I walk against the current of guests heading out, a heartfelt smile on my face telling him how happy I am for them.

  He nods, giving me a knowing smile.

  But then I almost stop, nearly choking on the breath I need to suck in. I thought I’d seen him go outside already, but no, Brian’s just turned around and now dark blue eyes are riveted on mine, on his face a mix of confusion and surprise.

  My mind begins to reel, my heart, to thud violently in my rib cage. Damn, this should be happening in quieter circumstances, preferably with no one watching, not like this!

  For a moment, I consider turning on my heel and walking away. Thankfully, I recover from the momentary fit of insanity and dismiss the awkward, idiotic idea.

  Christ. Get a grip.

  I proceed to congratulate the newlyweds, hanging around a tad longer than necessary—because there’s a wave of emotion about to explode in my chest and I don’t quite know how to deal with it. Because I can feel him watching me, observing me. This rush of excitement tinged with fear is close to intolerable.

  “Now go. There’s someone there waiting for you.” Jimmy gives a knowing jerk of his head toward Brian, the corners of his mouth turning into a subtle smirk.

  Reluctantly, I give the floor to the next not so patient guest waiting in a line that has formed in the meantime.

  Oh, you can’t really go without a good queue, can you?

  If I weren’t so bloody nervous, I’d probably have a good laugh at the expense of the highly organised alignment of funny hats and long-tailed suits.

  “Brian.” I hold out my hand, which feels weird considering how close we’ve been, but I don’t know how we’re supposed to do this. Not when we haven’t spoken in years, not when my last attempt ended with him avoiding my presence.

  “Liv. How are you doing?” he asks, his voice deep and smooth as he takes my hand, my pulse leaping when his grip tightens to pull me in for a rather loose hug.

  I return the embrace, taking in the fresh notes of his cologne, wishing he’d hold me tighter. Giving in to the urge, I leave a soft kiss on his cheek. Because why not. He’s far from being a mere acquaintance and if I’m honest with myself, I’ve been longing for this moment for so long.

  “It’s all so beautiful. And it was such a wonderful ceremony, wasn’t it?” I glance around, casting one last look at the lovely, elegant setting. The truth is, I’m forming the words, finding the courage to look into his eyes again. “It’s good to see you.”

  His eyes don’t waver from mine and I fear he can sense I am nervous, and I am, for I find myself fidgeting a little with my fingers, something I only do when I’m anxious. And he knows that.

  “Good to see you too, Olivia.” Breaking the lingering tension hanging in the air, he allows a trace of a smile to smoothen the rigid features. “You’re looking fabulous… It’s been quite a long time. I’d say…?”

  “Eleven years. Eleven too-damn-long years!” I step back and let my eyes run up and down his tall, well-built frame, as though assessing. “But you’re not looking too bad yourself... Ketchupito. In fact, you’re looking way better than that clumsy, lanky boy I used to know.”

  Seriously? What did you just call him?

  He’s obviously not pleased with the banter. There’s a frown line marring his forehead, which makes me feel even worse than I already do.

  I know, that was really stupid. The moment I finished the sentence, I wished the ground would swallow me whole.

  “It’s Brian,” he emphasises his name, his smile gone. “Just in case you’ve forgotten.”

  I’m so sorry. For mentioning the dumb nickname, I know you’d always hated. For trying to be funny when my heart is in my mouth and my hands are sweaty. Don’t be mad, I’m an absolute nervous wreck right now...

  I want to tell him all that, but the words get stuck in my throat. I lay my hand on his arm instead, squeezing gently.

  “Don’t be silly, of course, I haven’t.” How could I ever? “Hey, don’t look so serious, I was just–”

  “Oh, my God, look who’s here!” Taking my shoulders in his hands, someone with a familiar voice turns me to face him.

  “Uncle Will! Hello!” I force a smile, one that hopefully hides the shocked surprise.

  Good to see you, but hey, can’t we talk later? Please?

  “How are you, my dear? We thought you weren’t coming! What a lovely surprise!”

  “I’m fine, yourself? And how very handsome you look!” I tug at the ends of his bow tie, adjusting it. “Where’s Aunt Amelia?”

  “She’s right over there! Come, she’ll be so thrilled to see you.” He grabs my hand in excitement, getting ready to take me to her.

  “No, wait. I’m talking to–” I try to shrug him off gently. He doesn’t even listen and practically drags me towards the bench where Amelia is already waving, and I only have the chance to look back and ask, “We’ll catch up during the reception?”

  Brian doesn’t react, his face gives nothing away. He just keeps staring at me, assessing eyes boring into me.

  He’s probably still mad. Or maybe he doesn’t care—why would he want to catch up with me anyway, when our story ended so badly? His life is perfectly fine the way it is, without me in the picture. Why change that now?

  My core tightens in response, but I gulp down the frustration, along with my pride.

  “Fine, then,” I answer myself while wagging a scolding finger. “Now, don’t you even think of hiding another eleven years, will you, Brian Anderson?” I give him a playful wink and go.

  Chapter Ten ~ Brian

  “Look at Kate’s baby, Brian. Isn’t she adorable?” Susan asks, looking at her husband with a why-don’t-you-get-me-pregnant-asshole face. “I can hardly wait to hold my own…”

  I hold the 3D ultrasound image, a close-up shot of a baby’s face, and look at it as if studying each feature. “I don’t know, the nose looks cute but… she seems kind of dark-skinned, doesn’t she? You sure it’s yours, Ethan?”

  While the guy
s let out a hearty chuckle, Kate’s brow knits instantly in shock.

  “Brian! How dare you say such thing to a pregnant woman?” Outrage takes over Susan’s face and her hand flies to her chest. “That’s not funny!” She shoots her husband an authoritative look demanding immediate backup.

  “Come on. You know I’m joking, right?”

  Why do you all of the sudden lose your sense of humour? Is it a fuse that blows on your wedding night or something?

  I glance around the table. Mr Wimp and Mr Wuss, who must have lost their balls somewhere along the process, are unable to utter a single word. Beside them, Peter looks catatonic.

  Honestly, we should kick ourselves for agreeing to sit at our married friends’ table, Pete and I. Women are talking to me as though I’m a pompous, misogynist prick, only because I mentioned I don’t see myself settling down anytime soon, and Pete has shut himself off from the rest of the world around him.

  Poor guy: a practical example of what a woman can do you. He shouldn’t have come, really. This wedding is killing him, and I suspect that after tonight he’ll be crawling after his ex-wife again, definitely throwing his self-respect and dignity into the gutter.

  I scan the room for the hundredth time, looking for Olivia. She has already given me the wait-a-minute-I’m-coming sign three or four times, but there’s always someone coming in the middle wanting to greet and chat.

  “She wasn’t supposed to come, you know? I heard it was a last-minute decision,” Kate leans towards me and says it under her breath, probably after reading the expression of disappointment plastered upon my face each time Olivia sits down at a different table.

  “Excuse me? Who?” I pretend I don’t understand her remark and get up to grab the bottle and fill the glasses for another round.

  *

  In a desperate attempt to stop the dull ache in the pit of my stomach, I finish my wine with a long swig and fill my glass again. After almost two excruciating hours of food that’s not worth the price and music so loud you can’t possibly have a conversation, I draw my most important conclusion of the day: going to weddings isn’t healthy. I have already drunk more today than I do in a whole week.

  I throw the napkin on the table and run a hand over my stubbled jaw, trying to calm the frustration simmering deep within me. I’m a mess. A goddamn mess.

  For a moment, I close my eyes and rub my temple, trying to shove my feelings away, to ignore how my heart began to thump like crazy when I first saw her walking up that aisle earlier today.

  I just couldn’t take my eyes off her, of her beautiful face and her naked shoulder, as my mind went on reeling from the shock. Of seeing her so unexpectedly. Of the effect she still had on me.

  Damn, her smile. So warm and inviting. And her perfect lips, my eyes became transfixed on them. I wanted to kiss them that very moment. I still do, the pang of longing mixed with desire stabbing at my chest, pulsing in my veins to the point I can’t take it any longer.

  Enough, I scold myself, determined to put an end to this. It’s stupid, just plain stupid, to sit around waiting for… a stranger? Yes, that’s what she is. She used to be everything, what I knew best. But now, she’s just that. A stranger I know nothing about.

  “Hey, guys, look!” Kate yells in excitement and we all turn our heads to the middle of the reception centre. They’re announcing the father-daughter dance and everyone begins to clap their hands hysterically.

  Okay, I’m done here. Moving on. I empty my glass with one long gulp and stand.

  “Where are you going, mate?” Ethan asks wishing silently he could leave too. There’s a look of hopeless despair on his face.

  “Heading to the bar.” Just in time before the waltz. And before everyone starts dancing the usual badly played covers I know beforehand I’ll hate. Just as much as I’ll hate seeing her dance with half the wedding party. While continuing to ignore me.

  *

  When I arrive at the bar, I’m greeted by the heart-stopping vision of Linda’s cousin, sitting with one leg so sexily crossed over the other it should be illegal. I rack my brain trying to remember her name but give up eventually. Rosie? Ruthie?

  Frankly, I don’t care.

  A curt nod and I pull up one of the high stools. “A gin and tonic, please.”

  “Hey, how are you?”

  “I’m good. Yourself?”

  “Better now that you’re here.” The cute blonde smiles charmingly and stands, straightening her tiny fuck-me-dress dress before moving over to the bar stool next to mine.

  I subtly bring her into focus and fix her with a long, assessing look. Damn, her dress and her heels, what a lethal combination. What I wouldn’t give to see a certain woman putting those on, only for me. The idea makes my heart take an extra beat.

  The bartender sets my drink on the counter and she clicks her glass to mine, bringing my wandering mind back to reality.

  “So, enjoying the party?” she asks, languidly stirring her drink with a straw.

  “I am. What about you? What are you doing here all alone?” Ice rattles in my glass as I take a swig.

  “I don’t know. Trying to weasel my way behind the bar? Waiting to be rescued by a charming guy like you?” There’s an easy smile playing on her lips and her eyes sparkle with mischief. “Or maybe I just don’t feel like looking at a dancefloor crammed with gyrating lovebirds.”

  I let out a small laugh, the relaxed attitude and her friendly manner making me smile for the first time today. The moment is interrupted by a group of male guests invading the bar, their laughs and loud voices along with the music coming from the dining room filling the air.

  “This is getting too crowded, how about we sit over there?” She gestures to the dark leather couches placed in a quieter corner of the bar.

  I give her a tight smile. “Listen, I don’t mean to sound rude, but I–” My mobile buzzes from inside my jacket pocket and a feeling of momentary relief courses through me. “Give me a minute, I need to take this.” It should give me time to find the best words to tell the woman before me I just want to be alone.

  Momentary, indeed.

  Tension coils in my gut when I see it’s Josephine. Damn it, I totally forgot to return the bloody call, the one I received before the ceremony started.

  A few seconds into our conversation and I have to release a heavy breath to keep my cool. “Stop and listen to me. I’m sorry, but I can’t–” Leave earlier and go grab a drink with her.

  “Damn you and your pathetic excuses!” she cuts me off, yelling. Considering the volume, I can perfectly imagine her cheeks flushed with anger and the veins on her neck bulging tightly.

  I lean my elbows against the wooden countertop and pinch the bridge of my nose, the ache at the back of my eyes returning at a maddening pace. “Jo, please. I’m at my best friend’s wedding, I can’t just sneak away.”

  Despite the soft and conciliatory tone, she screams even louder than before, “I don’t care! You’re a stupid, dumbass prick!”

  All right. I am. If it makes you feel better.

  Note to self: urgently review the terms of our arrangement.

  Correction, terminate it.

  Blondie or whatever-her-name-is taps me on the arm, I’m still talking on the phone. I raise my hand, informing her of the obvious: I can’t get back to her right now.

  Blondie insists. “Listen. They’re calling for you on the speaker.”

  “Wait a sec, Jo.” I focus on the amplified female voice coming from the dining room. It’s Olivia’s. “I’ll call you right back.” I hang up, cutting the shrill voice that’s still yelling on the other side of the line.

  Olivia again. “Brian Anderson? Come over here! The next music is on you, handsome man! Where are you?”

  I draw a deep breath and hold it for a moment, as I try to decode her words and the sounds coming from the keyboard synth. When I do, I remain inert for several beats, hoping I’m not hearing it right.

  For Christ’s sake, it’s that music from
ten-sodding-years ago, Aserejé or whatever it’s called! A crazy song I was always dancing to that last summer. Some stupid moves I probably thought would make me look cool, I don’t know. What I do know is the damn song made the one-hit wonder Las Ketchup famous and turned me into a complete moron.

  “Brian? You have three seconds to move your butt here. Or shall I call you by your artistic name?” Olivia stresses those last two words with amused irony and I stand up immediately.

  Oh shit, no!

  I run like crazy before some killer acid reflux leads me to death, and finally, enter the dining room. Everyone’s laughing and applauding. Jimmy too, that bastard. I shoot an intimidating glance at Olivia. There’s a playful smile dancing across her lips as she calls me with her index finger.

  Damn you, crazy woman!

  After returning a totally forced smile, I run a hand through my hair seeking to calm down my nerves and the frantic beating of my heart. Then I stick both hands into the pockets of my trousers, in a hopefully successful attempt to look cool and relaxed.

  Having no way to escape, I give in to the miserable predicament I’m in, and begin to pace the room towards her with slow steps.

  The devil in disguise, on the other hand, looks pretty satisfied. “Ladies and gentlemen, please give a huge welcome to Brian Anderson, who’s teaching us some fine moves tonight!” She crisscrosses her arms, swings her hips and wags her hands up in the air, mimicking the original choreography. “Come on. It will be fun,” she mouths.

  What? You sloshed?

  I keep smiling, an absolutely cynical smile. As if making me wait two hours wasn’t bad enough, now this? I feel like strangling her with my bare hands.

  I suspect this woman will be the death of me, but one thing is certain: no way I’m going to dance that shit, I promise myself bravely.

  Chapter Eleven ~ Olivia

  With my eyes riveted on the man walking towards me, I watch him watching me as he strides to the centre of the room, snaking through the tables with a dark, menacing expression, the intensity of his gaze, searing.